by Anne Herries
in the palace…an old crone who had long since been put to
work in the kitchens. She must be fetched and told to wait on
her new mistress, and the older women must take care of
Eleanor…prepare her for her new life.
He was not yet sure what her new life was to be. If she was
not to be given to the Sultan he must find another gift…
something rare and unusual that would pacify their ilustrious
master. For the moment he had other things on his mind. She
would come to no harm within the palace—and he would have
her sent for when he was ready to decide what to do with her.
Eleanor looked round the large chamber, which was the main
one used by the harem for relaxing, talking and, perhaps, in the
case of those concubines who did not have their own rooms,
sleeping. There were divans covered in silks and satins, and piled
with cushions for taking one’s ease, also little tables on which
were placed what looked like dishes of nuts and sweetmeats,
fountains that played into smal pools and various chests or
cabinets. One girl was strumming on a musical instrument, the
music strange and sounding off key to Eleanor.
The women gathered in smal groups, talking, whispering and
looking at her curiously. None of them had as yet approached
her though she had been sitting on a cushion since the old woman
had brought her here and then vanished.
What was she supposed to do? After the terror of her
capture and the drama of that ride to the palace, it al felt rather
like an anti-climax, simply sitting here watching several lovely
like an anti-climax, simply sitting here watching several lovely
women idle the hours away. One girl was brushing the hair of
another and braiding it with flowers or ribbons, others were
painting their toenails with some kind of a dye—and one was
having her body painted with a pattern in some black stuff.
At the far end of the room, Eleanor could see there was a
door leading out to what looked like pleasant gardens. Was she
alowed to go out there? She had certainly had enough of sitting
here by herself. Oh, wel, if it was forbidden, someone would
stop her. She got up and wandered towards the door, thinking
that the floors of mosaic tiling were very beautiful, as were some
of the pierced screens that were painted in bright colours of red,
blue and gold.
No one shouted at her to stop, so she went out into the
garden. It was evening now and quite dark, but there were
lanterns hanging amongst the trees and she was able to find her
way along a winding path towards the sound of water. She found
a stone seat by a pretty pool and sat down, staring into the
darkness. Was she realy going to be forced to spend the rest of
her life in a place like this? If she were reduced to living the way the other women did, she would go mad.
Tears came to her eyes as she thought of her father and
brother, and the evenings they had spent playing games of skil
together. Her poor father! Her throat closed with emotion. How
could she bear to live without the two people she loved most in
the world?
Where was Richard? She had not seen him since they were
both captured and did not even know if he were stil alive. His
both captured and did not even know if he were stil alive. His
fate was probably far worse than hers! She thought that he might
have been tortured or beaten. Poor, poor Richard! She prayed
that he was not in pain or desperately afraid. He was only a
youth, and he would have had no chance against his captors. Her
head went up as she renewed her vow not to give way to self-
pity or despair. She would fight to survive and somehow she
would win her freedom one day.
‘Are you there, my lady?’
The sound of a woman’s voice speaking to her in English
brought her head up. How could that be? The old woman that
had first taken charge of Eleanor and then abandoned her had
not understood when she had tried to talk to her.
‘Who are you? Please come forward.’
A woman stepped out of the shadows and approached
diffidently. She was obviously quite old, her face lined and her
hair deeply streaked with grey.
‘I am Morna, my lady. I came to the palace many years ago
as a gift to the Caliph, but he was never interested in me as one
of his concubines because I was not beautiful. I was sent to the
kitchens and I have worked there ever since.’
‘Morna?’ Eleanor looked at her. ‘I do not think I have ever
heard that name before—it is pretty.’
‘My mother was English, but my father came from the hils of
Wales,’ Morna replied. ‘I think it is an ancient Celtic name,
though I cannot be sure.’ She smiled at Eleanor. ‘I am sorry
Shorah deserted you earlier. I do not think she knew what to do
Shorah deserted you earlier. I do not think she knew what to do
with you, so she left you with the other concubines—and they
ignored you because they were not sure why you were there
either. It is dangerous to form relationships in the harem unless
you know the status of those you befriend.’
‘Shorah—that is the old woman who took charge of me? I
think she could not understand what I said to her.’
‘No, she understands only her native tongue,’ Morna replied.
‘When I was told you were here I was not sure I would
remember how to speak English. It is so long since I have used
our language—but as you see, it came back to me.’
‘Have you been here many years?’
‘Oh, yes, much of my life has been spent in this palace. But I
am fortunate. I am not important, merely a servant—so I am
alowed to come and go as I please. I visit the market to buy
food and trinkets for the women sometimes. They repay me by
giving me some of their food—so I live very wel.’
‘Can you help me to leave the palace?’ Eleanor asked
eagerly. ‘Is there any way I could escape?’
‘They would kil us both if you tried to leave,’ Morna told her
gravely. ‘It seems that you have caught the eye of the Caliph’s
son. You are to be given your own rooms and I am to wait upon
you—as befits a lady of your rank.’
‘What does that mean?’ Eleanor asked. ‘Am I to stay here,
then? I thought…’ She let the words die unspoken. Roxana had
told her she would be lucky if Suleiman Bakhar kept her for
himself, and she was beginning to believe that that might be the
case. Better a young, inteligent master who spoke her tongue
case. Better a young, inteligent master who spoke her tongue
and might just be persuaded to let her go home, than the Sultan
who would scarcely notice her amongst his other women. ‘No, it
does not matter. You could not know what is in his mind. Please take me to my rooms. I am tired and I should like to sleep now.’
‘Would you like me to bring you food from the kitchens?’
Morna asked, sounding eager. ‘Surely you are hungry, my lady?’
Eleanor was about to reply that she had eaten earlier
and was
not hungry, but she realised that Morna might not get enough to
eat and was hoping that some of her mistress’s food might be left
for her.
‘Yes, bring me something,’ she said. ‘You can share it with
me.’
‘Thank you, my lady. You are generous.’
Eleanor nodded, but did not reply. She supposed there were
probably hundreds of servants in this vast palace, which
sprawled over a large area of land and consisted of a mass of
different buildings. Many of the slaves were probably forced to
live on the scraps left by others. The world was a cruel place,
especialy for slaves, and she was angry that people like the
Caliph and his arrogant son believed they had the right to
dispose of the lives of others as they chose.
‘Where is the Caliph’s son?’ she asked. ‘Has he returned to
the palace?’
‘Oh, yes, some time ago,’ Morna replied. ‘It is by his order
that you have been given your own rooms.’
‘He has not asked for me?’
‘Our master’s son has not chosen a woman this night,’ Morna
‘Our master’s son has not chosen a woman this night,’ Morna
replied. ‘They say he is with the physicians who tend the
wounded—and that he has spoken to the family of the man who
died. The Janissaries are al Suleiman Bakhar’s friends. He trains
with them every day. Sometimes there is much sport in the
courtyard, and you may be alowed to watch him wrestling or
fighting with the others if you are lucky.’
Eleanor was astonished. ‘Why should I wish to watch that
barbarian at sport?’
‘Hush!’ Morna glanced over her shoulder nervously. ‘You
should not say such things—ears may be listening. We are
always watched in the harem. There are spies everywhere.
Fatima wil have heard that you have arrived by now and she wil
not be pleased that you have been given your own apartments.’
‘Who is Fatima?’
‘She is the lord Suleiman’s favourite. She rules the harem and
al the other women are afraid of her.’
‘Why—what harm can she do them?’
‘Many unpleasant things can happen in this place,’ Morna
warned. ‘Fatima is jealous of any woman she thinks might take
her place as Suleiman’s chief concubine. She is hoping he wil
take her as his wife—but she has not yet given him a child, and
they say he wil not marry her unless she does.’
‘I have no wish to lie in Suleiman Bakhar’s bed,’ Eleanor
said. ‘Besides, the other women wil not understand what we say
if we speak in English—wil they?’
‘Most wil not,’ Morna agreed, ‘but there are those who do
‘Most wil not,’ Morna agreed, ‘but there are those who do
—some of the eunuchs understand English, French or Spanish as
wel as many other languages. It is the eunuchs who spy on the
harem al the time. Some do it from idle curiosity, some to
discover what they can for their masters—but others have their
own reasons.’
‘What do you mean?’ Eleanor looked at her curiously.
‘They…cannot desire a woman for themself, can they?’
‘No—not a true eunuch,’ Morna replied in a whisper. ‘But
sometimes…no, I dare not say. It is forbidden and would cause
trouble if it were discovered.’
Eleanor saw that the old woman was frightened and did not
press her further, though she thought Morna must be hinting that
the women were not as protected as their master imagined. It
was clear that there were many mysteries and intrigues in the
harem, and that life there was not quite as it had seemed as she’d
watched the women amusing themselves earlier
Morna had led her to a room that was slightly apart from the
main one that she had seen earlier. There were actualy three
smal interconnecting rooms. One had a little pool for bathing and
a place for relieving the bodily functions, one for sleeping (with a couch for her servant at the foot of her own divan) and one for
sitting. Al of them were luxuriously tiled and hung with silken
drapes of pink and silver. There were cabinets of dark wood
inlaid with silver, mother of pearl and smal semi-precious stones,
also stools and little tables.
‘The rooms are very nice,’ Eleanor said. ‘At least I shal be
able to be private sometimes—but what am I supposed to do?
able to be private sometimes—but what am I supposed to do?
What are my duties, Morna? Am I to be given no work—no
occupation?’
‘The ladies of the harem are here to please their master,’
Morna replied. ‘You simply amuse yourself until you are caled
to the bedchamber and then…wel, then you do as you are told,
and smile if you do not wish to be beaten.’
A little shudder went through Eleanor. ‘That is truly a savage
custom! I refuse to obey the whim of a man simply because he
paid another man money for me.’
Morna shook her head at her sadly. ‘You wil learn soon
enough,’ she said. ‘I shal fetch food, my lady. You should eat
and rest—for tomorrow you wil meet the important women of
the harem, and they wil begin to school you for those duties you
say you wil not accept…’
Eleanor stared in frustration as the servant left her. She could
not stay here! She would die of boredom. How could al those
women out there be content to sit around and wait patiently until
their master decided to send for them—and what if he never
did?
What if she never saw Suleiman again? She would not be
able to win her freedom unless she could persuade him to
ransom her…
Fatima glared at the woman who had brought her the
information that the new arrival had been given rooms of her
own. She gave a little scream of rage and struck Shorah across
own. She gave a little scream of rage and struck Shorah across
the face, leaving a nasty red mark.
‘I told you to leave her with the other concubines. I gave
orders that she was to be ignored!’
‘It was the order of Suleiman Bakhar himself,’ Shorah
replied, her head bowed before the favourite, hiding the gleam of
resentment in her eyes. ‘I had nothing to do with it, mistress.’
Fatima swore beneath her breath. Word had been brought to
her that Suleiman had gone to the city to see a beautiful woman
and that he had paid a fabulous price for her—but she had
believed the woman was to be a gift for the Sultan. Now it
looked as though Suleiman might be planning to keep her for
himself. He might even take her as his wife…and that was a
position Fatima wanted for herself. As a concubine she could be
sold or given away to another man, but as the lord Suleiman’s
wife she would be safe and ruler of the harem.
‘Is she beautiful?’ she demanded suddenly of the old woman.
‘This new woman—more beautiful than me?’
‘No one could be more beautiful than you, mistress.’
Fatima nodded. She knew that her dark hair was shiny from
al
the oils rubbed into it, and her skin was soft and smooth to the
touch, exuding a heavy perfume that was guaranteed to drive
men wild. And her lord had shown himself no different from
others in that respect. She spent most of her time bathing and
being prepared for the moment she would be sent for—but
Suleiman had not sent for her that evening.
It was most unusual. He always sent for a woman after he
had won one of his games of skil—and he was always in a good
had won one of his games of skil—and he was always in a good
mood at these times—but he had not sent for Fatima that night.
Her one consolation was that he had not sent for the new woman
either, choosing to waste his time in comforting the family of the
man who had died, and in visiting the wounded.
Yet she feared this woman she had not yet seen. It was said
that she was an English gentlewoman—and therefore more
dangerous than any of the other concubines. Suleiman’s mother
had been English, and Fatima knew that he had fond memories
of his childhood.
Suleiman was hard to fathom. When he fought with the
Janissaries, Fatima understood the excitement and his feelings of
triumph when he won—and she knew that he was a skiled and
passionate lover when he chose. However, he often spent his
evenings talking, either with his teacher or his friends…they
spoke of strange, intricate matters that Fatima would have found
boring had she been alowed to listen. She was not, of course.
Women were for pleasure, and when Suleiman sent for her she
knew how to please him…except that he had not seemed
pleased on the last few occasions he had sent for her.
Indeed, she had felt that he did not realy want her, and that
he would have preferred to be talking with his teacher. She had
been glad when she learned the teacher had gone away, thinking
that Suleiman would want her more often. Instead he had chosen
to invite his friends from the Janissaries to eat and drink with him, and, though, he ordered the dancing girls to perform and he
alowed his friends to take their pick of them, he had not sent for
Fatima.
She had feared that her lord might have heard whispers
concerning her and yet that could not be—he could suspect
nothing, for her creature would have told her.
Fatima knew everything that went on in Suleiman’s private
apartments, because she held one of the eunuchs in the palm of
